Into the Woods
by Bride of Thranduil
Summary: What if Gaston had rescued Belle from the wolves instead of the Beast? Gaston/Belle
1. A Walk On the Wild Side

Into the Woods

Summary: What if Gaston had rescued Belle from the wolves instead of the Beast? Gaston/Belle

Disclaimer: I don't own Beauty and the Beast, Gaston, Belle, the castle, Villenueve, Maurice, etc. You get the idea. I also don't own the novelization by Elizabeth Rudnick, which I'm shamelessly appropriating for the first and second chapters.

A/N: I'm almost finished with my last Gaston/Belle story, Crazy Old Maurice. I want to give a big thank you to anyone who's following me from that story and a big hello to anyone reading my work for the first time.

Chapter 1: A Walk on the Wild Side

"Listen! Wolves! We must be getting close to the haunted castle!"

Sitting in the back of Gaston's carriage, Gaston and LeFou were startled by Maurice's shout. The three men had been making their way through the forest for quite some time. The rest of the crowd had turned back, happy to return to the warmth of the tavern, once Gaston made it clear he was going into the woods. And while the forest wasn't exactly picturesque, it wasn't nearly as menacing as Maurice's wild tavern tale had led Gaston to believe.

"Maurice, enough is enough," Gaston said, turning to look at the older man. The carriage ride had made his wild white hair even more disheveled and his eyes were whipping back and forth as he gazed around the forest desperately. "We have to turn back," Gaston added, not sure Maurice had even heard a word he said.

But apparently he had, because he quickly shook his head. "No! Look!" Maurice pointed up ahead.

Following the old man's finger, Gaston saw a tree on the side of the road. It was withered, its branches bent at odd angles its trunk smooth with age. Over the course of their journey, Maurice had been telling them all about how he had first found the enchanted castle. He had mentioned something about a tree that looked like a cane and a hidden path… Cocking his head to the side, Gaston narrowed his eyes. It sort of looked cane-like, but there was definitely no path behind it.

"That is the tree!" Maurice exclaimed, as if sensing Gaston's doubt. "I'm sure of it. Of course, it was downed by lightning at the time, but now it's been restored to an upright position. By magic, it seems."

Leaning over, LeFou tapped Gaston on the shoulder. "You really want to marry into this family?" he whispered, rolling his eyes.

Gaston knew the smaller man was teasing him, but LeFou had a point. Enough was enough. He had let Maurice lead them out there, but if they couldn't find Belle, what was the point? "I'm done playing this game of yours," Gaston snapped, stopping the carriage. Jumping down, he put his hands on his hips. "Where is Belle?"

"The Beast took her!" Maurice said again.

Gaston's eyes narrowed. He was trying very hard not to lose his temper, but the old man was making it difficult. "There are no such things as beasts, or talking teacups, or whatever." As he spoke, his voice grew louder and his hands began to clench and unclench at his sides. "But there are wolves, frostbite, and starvation."

Scrambling off the carriage, LeFou raced to his friend's side. "Deep breaths, Gaston," he said. "Deep breaths."

Gaston's jaw clenched and for a moment, it seemed a very good possibility that he was going to hit something. But then he took a deep breath, like LeFou had suggested. And another. And one more for good measure. "So," he started again when he was calmer, "Why don't we just turn around and go back to Villenueve? Belle's probably at home cooking up a lovely dinner."

"You think I've made all this up?" Maurice asked, seemingly unaware of how close Gaston was to breaking. He looked up at the large man in confusion. "If you didn't believe me, why did you offer to help?"

"Because I want to marry your daughter," Gaston said, with no attempt to hide his plan any longer. "Now let's go home."

"I told you! She's not at home, she's with the"-

Rage flooded over Gaston and he erupted. "If you say 'beast' one more time, I will feed you to the wolves!" he screamed, all his composure gone. He stalked over to Maurice and raised his fists.

LeFou watched his friend go dark. He knew he had to do something. "Stop," he cried, frantically trying to think of what to say next. When Gaston got angry, it was hard to pull him out of it. LeFou had really only seen him that way a few times- and it took a while to talk him down. Suddenly, LeFou knew exactly what to do. "Think happy thoughts," he said soothingly. "Go back to the war. Blood, explosions, more blood." As LeFou spoke, the red faded from Gaston's cheeks and his hands began to unclench. His eyes clouded over and he got lost in the memories of his glory days.

By the time LeFou finished speaking, Gaston was back in a good head space. "Please, forgive me," he said. "That's no way to talk to my future father-in-law, now is it?" He smiled at the old man. But the smile didn't reach Gaston's eyes.

That wasn't lost on Maurice. And neither was the fact that Gaston clearly had a dark side. "Captain," he said, backing up a step, "now that I've seen your true face, you'll never marry my daughter."

LeFou gulped. _I wouldn't have said that if I were you_ , he thought. _Gaston might take it badly and if that happens…_

Gaston pulled back and hit Maurice. Hard. The old man sagged to the ground, unconscious.

 _You might just end up getting hit_ , LeFou finished his thought. He opened his mouth to try once again to calm down his friend, but it was too late. Gaston had given in to his rage and there was no pulling him out of it. Not now, at least."

"If Maurice won't give me his blessing," Gaston said as he picked up the unconscious man and put him inside the carriage, "then he is in my way. If something really did happen to Belle and she's somewhere in these woods, I'll have better luck tracking her without his rambling. There's no path behind the tree that looks like a cane. If I find her, she'll be so grateful, _she'll_ ask _me_ to get married."

LeFou was pretty sure she wouldn't, but he knew better than to argue with Gaston when he was in a certain mood.

"Take the old man home," Gaston said. "Get him out of his wet clothes and into bed. Hopefully when he wakes up this will all be a bad dream."

LeFou hurried to climb into the carriage's driver's seat as Gaston unhitched one of the horses, hunting rifle in hand. "What do I tell him when he wakes up?"

"Tell him he collapsed and we brought him home. Tell him any lie you want. Just don't let him out of your sight until I come back. If he gets lost and freezes to death, Belle will never forgive me."

"Uh, right," LeFou said, confused by this new concern for Maurice's welfare.

"What?" asked Gaston. "I just wanted to him to stop talking crazy and leading us around in circles. That doesn't mean I want to him to die alone in the woods. I'm not a monster."

"I'll make sure he gets home," LeFou spurred the horse to a trot before Gaston could change his mind.

"Crazy old Maurice," Gaston muttered as they rode away. He scoured the forest floor for tracks made by a single rider. He was sure Belle would have been on horseback if she came this way. He saw enough of a pattern to lead him on. He didn't expect to find her locked up by a beast in an enchanted castle in the middle of the forest, but he was in love with her. Maurice's crazy rantings had made him worry enough that he needed to assure himself of her safety before he could go home and fall asleep. If he went back now he'd only toss and turn until he could put eyes on her and know that she was safe.

Eventually he came to a fork in the road. One way led down the well-trodden path to the county market, where Maurice had probably been taking his latest music box. The other way was marred by gnarled trees and grasping roots. It didn't look at all inviting. "Of course you did," Gaston muttered, thinking this must have been the way Maurice had come when he had gotten lost. He heard people in Villenueve say that Maurice was a brilliant man, but all Gaston saw when he looked at him was a buffoon. He could hardly dress himself or find his way around a town where he had lived for twenty years. He felt sure that Maurice had taken the wrong path and gotten himself turned around. He doubted there was any veracity to the rest of his tale, but if there was, then he supposed Belle could have been grabbed by some bandit in the woods.

"The things I do for love," he sighed as he plodded along the obscured path. Suddenly he heard the howl of wolves and a woman's scream. Someone needed his help. It was hero time.


	2. Hero Time

A/N: This is shorter than my normal chapter length, but I felt like this was a separate scene from chapter one and chapter three. It seemed better to post it by itself. Enjoy!

Chapter 2: Hero Time

"Promise or no promise, I can't stay here another minute," Belle said to herself as she raced to the stable. She would take the Beast's command to "get out" to mean that she was released from their agreement. It didn't take her long to find Phillipe. The big animal had made himself quite comfortable in one of the stable's roomy stalls. Hearing Belle's footsteps on the cobblestones, he looked up mid-mouthful of hay and cocked his head as if to ask, _What are you doing here_?

Throwing the saddle over his back, Belle didn't answer his questioning look. She pulled him out of the stall and quickly mounted. Then she gave his sides a kick. Philippe didn't hesitate. He broke into a canter and headed toward the castle's gate. Moments later, they were safely through the gate and back in the woods that surrounded the castle.

It didn't take Belle long to realize she'd traded one terrifying situation for another. As Philippe cantered along, she caught glimpses of shadows out of the corners of her eyes. They gradually grew louder and clearer, and by the time Belle heard the first howl, she already knew that she and Philippe were being followed by a pack of wolves.

Urging Philippe on, Belle tried not to panic. Philippe was a big horse with heavy hooves and he was fast when he needed to be. If they could just get close enough to the village, she was sure the wolves would be frightened by the signs of civilization. As long as they didn't run into any obstacles before then, they should be okay.

And then Phillipe ran right out onto a frozen pond.

Beneath his hooves, the ice groaned. Belle leaned over and saw cracks begin to appear. Small at first, they grew larger and the horse slipped and slid across the frozen surface. Shouting encouragement, Belle tried to calm Phillipe, who was growing more and more panicked as the ice began to give out beneath him and the wolves closed in from behind. Belle felt the horse's powerful haunches bunch beneath him and she grabbed a fistful of his mane. Then… he leapt.

Belle's breath caught in her throat as they hung suspended in the air for a moment, before Phillipe's front hooves landed on the pond's edge. A moment later, his back hooves followed. But the cry of relief Belle wanted to let out caught in her throat as the first of the wolves, seeing a chance, attacked.

One wolf's large jaws snapped as it went after Phillipe's back leg. A moment later, another wolf joined in. Philippe kicked out and bucked wildly, trying to defend himself. On his back, Belle clung to his mane desperately. But Philippe was just too strong and powerful. As his hind legs once again flew into the air, she was knocked out of the saddle and went flying into a nearby snowbank. Getting to her feet, Belle looked around wildly for something she could use to defend herself. Spotting a thick branch, she grabbed it and waved it in the air in front of her.

The wolves, seeing a new and potentially easier target, closed in. Belle's arm shot out and she managed to hit one on the nose. Another came at her and she swung the branch, slamming it into that wolf's side. Despite her efforts, the wolves kept coming. Belle backed up, her heart pounding and fear flooding over her. Hearing a howl from above, she saw the biggest wolf yet standing on a ledge above her, ready to pounce. It stared at her with cold, hungry eyes. Belle braced, ready to defend herself until the end.

Then a shot rang out. There was a yelp and a flurry of movement behind her. Turning, she was shocked to see Gaston. He had shot one of the wolves in the middle of the pack and was aiming for another. Several of them had backed away and were eyeing him warily. The largest of the wolves -the alpha- was still on his feet, hackles raised, teeth bared. Gaston's jaw was set determinedly and she was certain that he would shoot every last wolf if he had enough bullets. One after another, the smaller of the wolves attacked. Each time, Gaston managed to shoot it before it got within biting range. But Belle could tell that his concentration was flagging. Even an experienced hunter like Gaston didn't usually shoot this many targets for this long. A drop of sweat beaded down his face and she knew this couldn't go on forever. Then the alpha attacked.

The big gray wolf leapt up at Gaston's horse in one fluid motion. The alpha's mouth opened as he went for the horse's neck. Roaring, Gaston fired one final shot straight between the animal's eyes. It hung in the air for one long moment and then it was dead before it hit the ground. Shaken, Belle looked away. Seeing that their leader was dead, the rest of the wolves took off in a panic.

Gaston waited until the wolves' yelps had all but gone before letting out the breath he had been holding. His shoulders, which had been tense and high, slumped. Belle stood, unable to move. She was as rooted to the ground as the trees around her. "Are you hurt?" Gaston asked, raking his eyes over her for any signs of injury. She shook her head. "And your horse? Is he lame?" She shook her head again. Gaston slid out of his saddle and approached her slowly, like she was a frightened doe. He cupped her cheeks with his hands and forced her to look at him. "I need to get you home," he said. "Your father is worried sick about you. You can tell me what happened later."

An angry cry pierced the night and snapped Belle out of her reverie. "We have to hurry," she said. "He'll come after us."

"Who is he?" asked Gaston, casting a glance in the direction of the noise.

"Never mind that for now. He's dangerous." She led Philippe over to Gaston and prepared to mount him, but Gaston put a hand on her shoulder.

"You'd do better to ride home with me. One of Philippe's shoes is damaged and the less weight he puts on it until it's repaired, the better." Belle nodded, noting that Philippe had shattered the shoe on his right foreleg. She would take him to see the blacksmith as soon as they were home.

Looking Philippe in the eye, she asked him, "Can you follow us home?" He nodded and whinnied. She pulled herself up behind Gaston and wrapped her arms around him. For once, she was genuinely glad to see him. She didn't want to think about what would have happened if he hadn't arrived. Between the rhythm of the horse's stride and Gaston's warmth, Belle suddenly felt everything that happened that day catch up to her. She might have cried if she'd had more energy, but she let her eyes close and her head loll forward against Gaston's back.

"Papa, I'm not ready for bed," she murmured as a strong pair of arms lifted down and carried her inside. It wasn't until she woke up the next day that she realized who must have carried her.


	3. She Won't Discover That It's Him

Chapter 3: She Won't Discover That It's Him

Belle woke up the next day to sunshine streaming through her window. She smiled thinking that she had the most vivid dream. She opened her eyes and found herself safely back in her childhood bedroom in Villeneuve. Then her smile faltered. It hadn't been a dream. She had gone to rescue her father and had escaped from the Beast last night. She remembered the fight with the wolves and Gaston's fortuitous appearance. She looked down and saw that she was still in her favorite blue dress. She couldn't remember coming home last night, so she surmised that she must have fallen asleep on the way back and Gaston had carried her inside. She silently crept down the stairs in case her father was still asleep. What she saw in the sitting room was shocking.

Maurice snored softly, covered by a blanket in the easy chair by the fire. Gaston sat at the table by the window. It looked like he was reading. Belle pinched herself, making sure she wasn't still dreaming. It hurt, so she must be awake. "Good morning, Gaston," she said hesitantly.

Like a child who'd been caught with their hand in the cookie jar, he smiled sheepishly and put down the book. "Good morning, Belle," he said quietly. Then he put a finger to his lips and motioned for her to come into the kitchen with him. Perplexed, she followed. "I didn't want to wake your father," he explained. "He had a long night."

"What happened last night?" she asked. "How did you find me?"

"Maurice came into the tavern, raving that you'd been kidnapped by a beast in an enchanted castle. He tried to recruit volunteers to come look for you."

Belle nodded uneasily. Even though her father had told the truth, she saw that it probably wasn't the best way to get people to help.

"LeFou and I were the only ones who came. We didn't believe his story, but we thought that you might be in trouble anyway. There are all manner of things in the woods and I know you would have gone looking for your father no matter what."

He stopped and looked around the kitchen uncomfortably. "And then?" Belle prompted.

"And then… I'm not proud of what happened. Maurice kept rambling about talking teacups and enchantresses and all manner of impossible things and he couldn't take us to you. He was leading us in circles, but he was adamant that we should keep going. I thought I would have better luck tracking you on my own, so I had LeFou bring him home."

"How did you do that? You said he was adamant about finding me."

"That's the part I'm not proud of. I knocked him out cold." Belle drew in a sharp breath. "It was for his own good," Gaston said placatingly. "I know it's a terrible way to treat someone elderly, but I really was looking out for his welfare. Belle, he was raving like a lunatic. I don't know when the last time he slept or ate was. I thought maybe he had a fever. I thought it would be better for him and for you if he went home."

Belle's expression softened minutely. "I see why you felt that way, Gaston, and I am grateful that you rescued me. You saved my life. If it hadn't been for you, I never would have made it home."

"It was nothing. It wasn't even the most heroic thing I've ever done. It brought back memories of the war though. Those were the days."

Belle shifted her weight uncomfortably. She didn't understand how anyone could romanticize war. "What is it that you miss most about being a soldier?" She didn't know why she had asked. Gaston's war stories had never interested her before. She was sure they were all exaggerated anyway, but she felt like she owed him something after he saved her. He'd shown her that there was more to him than met the eye. He'd risked his life to help her. It was odd that he didn't believe her father, but he'd come to look for her anyway. Why would he do that?

"The widows," Gaston said flatly. Seeing Belle's horrified expression, he burst out laughing. "I'm joking. I miss the comradery. There's nothing like the prospect of imminent death to incentivize people to bond."

"You miss the war because you had more friends?"

"It's not as strange as you make it sound. This is a small village, isn't it? How many people our age live here? Not many, and we've known them all our lives. Now imagine that you're a very young man, hardly more than a boy, and you've never travelled anywhere. You're placed in a new situation and taught to fight, which is what you've always wanted to do, and you're surrounded by hundreds of other young men. It was like a dream come true. It was like meeting all the friends I ever wished for in childhood at once and everyone wanted to socialize. We were all trying to get to know each other. None of us really knew what was coming, so we were all trying our best to not think about it. I imagine it's how you would feel if you walked into a room full of books you'd always wanted to read."

Belle smiled, pleased that he'd made such an on-point analogy. Maybe he was smarter than he looked. He said the schoolmaster never liked him, but that wasn't necessarily a reflection on his intelligence. "May I ask what you were reading when I interrupted you?" she asked.

"You could never interrupt anything, Belle, but it was _1001 Arabian Nights_. It was sitting out on the table, so I assume it's a favorite of yours?"

"Oh, yes! It has everything I could want in a story, far off places, daring swordfights, magic spells, and a prince in disguise."

"Yes, all those things make for a good story. I think that's why MacBeth is my favorite play."

"You've read Shakespeare?"

"Heavens, no. Reading plays isn't any fun at all. I saw it on stage."

"You've been to the theater?"

"Indeed. My father used to take me with him to Paris on business. We sell some of our surplus crops, you know. He always made a point of going to the theater when we had a chance. I suppose part of why I enjoy it is because it reminds me of him. Which is why I'm really very sorry about what happened to your father last night."

"Please don't make a habit of punching him in the face," she said, "Even when it is for his own good."

"You have my word," Gaston said, crossing his heart. Not wanting the conversation to end he said, "So you've never seen a play?"

"There's not a lot of theater here in Villenueve."

"What about at the fair? Every year they do puppet shows and a mummer's farce. Sometimes they're quite funny."

"I've never been to the fair. Actually, I haven't left Villeneuve since I came here as a baby."

"You need to get out more, Belle. I know you want adventure in the great wide somewhere, but you don't need to go that far to experience new things. The fair is a wonderful way to spend an afternoon and it's only about an hour away on horseback."

"Maybe you're right," Belle said thoughtfully. "Maybe I should try to see what's in my own backyard before I travel the world."

"That's the spirit. The fair's coming up, you know. As a matter of fact, it's next weekend. I could escort you, if you like. And if it's alright with your father," he added hastily.

Was he blushing? Belle never thought the day would come when she'd see Gaston embarrassed. Part of her said that he should be embarrassed after hitting an old man, but part of her also said that it was cute. It meant that he wasn't as calm and collected as he liked to pretend. "Alright, I'll go the fair with you."

"Excellent! Now, I really should take my leave. I don't think your father would be overly pleased if I was still here when he woke up, not that I blame him. Take care, Belle. And try not to get cornered by wolves in the woods until after next week." He'd meant it in jest, but Gaston could see the fear in Belle's eyes. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. He was finally getting her to open up and he'd messed it up. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want, but what happened yesterday in the woods?"

Belle shuddered, but then she put on a brave face. "It's a long story. I'll tell you on the way to the fair next week." Seeming satisfied, Gaston left. Belle breathed a sigh of relief. She was relieved about everything at the moment. She was relieved to be home. She was relieved that her father was alright. She was relieved that the Beast hadn't come after her. Most of all, she was relieved that Gaston seemed like a better man than she'd given him credit for. She knew people in the village already called her father Crazy Old Maurice. She didn't want to give them more cause. The last thing she needed was for her father to end up in the Maison des Lunes. The two of them needed to come up with a strategy about how to explain what had happened in the forest without including magic. They needed to warn people to be careful without sounding crazy. She'd have to come up with something. Thinking she heard her father stirring in the next room, she hastened to attend him.


	4. Fair Folk

Disclaimer: I don't own Beauty and the Beast.

Summary: Gaston and Belle go to the fair.

A/N: Hey folks! I'm not sure why I had so much trouble getting this chapter out, but here it is. I'd like to give a big thank you to PhantomsAngel1870 for giving me the confidence to finally post it. Many thanks to JDLuvaSQEE, Mustard Lady, Mbanshee, whiskeyneat, and my guest reviewers!

Chapter 4 Fair Folk

Belle licked her lips as she waited for Gaston to arrive. They had arranged for him to stop by her house and then to ride to the fair together. She'd never felt this nervous about spending time with someone before and itt wasn't because it felt like a courtship. It was because she hated lying and she wasn't very good at it. She needed to convince Gaston that her father wasn't crazy and that was going to involve some creative story telling. There was no way she could convince him that there really was a beast in an enchanted castle where it was always winter. He'd never believe it. She barely believed it and she'd been there yesterday. She needed a plausible explanation for why she'd needed rescuing in the woods yesterday and why her father had been out of his mind with worry.

This was the story she and her father came up with. Maurice had been set upon by thugs on the way to the fair. They had stolen his music boxes and decided to hold him for ransom. Philip had gotten away and gone home. When he arrived without her father, Belle knew something was wrong and went looking for him. He was being held by a large and imposing man whom the other thugs called the Beast. She never saw his face because he kept it hidden by a hood. She had offered to take Maurice's place. The Beast had agreed when Belle convinced him that Maurice would be better able to raise a ransom than she would, as a helpless woman. Mad with worry, Maurice had gone to the tavern and made a fool of himself asking for help. Belle managed to escape from her kidnappers after they fell asleep. She took Philip into the woods, where they would have perished if they hadn't met Gaston. She hoped she could sell it.

Belle licked her lips again while she waited, noting that they were beginning to feel chapped. There was something about the look in Gaston's eyes the night he rescued her that left her feeling unsettled. She would almost describe it as hungry, but there was no sign of it when he appeared outside her cottage to escort her to the fair. Belle was prepared to ride Philip, whose shoe had been repaired, but Gaston suggested they give the old horse a break and ride together on his steed, Andre. Belle was an accomplished rider, but Philip did look a little worse for wear after yesterday's events. She decided to humor Gaston. Conversation on the way to the fair was surprisingly easy. They talked about the weather and general news in Villenueve like who was having babies, getting married, etc. Belle didn't remember Gaston being so easy to talk to. The only person he really seemed at ease around was LeFou.

It wasn't surprisingly that they knew all the same people, but Belle was surprised with how much he knew about current events outside of their villge. For all her love of books, Belle hardly ever read a newspaper. She heard what other people said, of course, but she wasn't prepared for Gaston to ask her questions on various topics of news. She felt color creeping into her cheeks as she admitted that she preferred reading about events in fictional worlds rather than the real one.

When they arrived, she was surprised with how large the fair was. There was every kind of food she could think of and plenty of people were walking around with tankards of ale. Belle expected Gaston to indulge in one, but he remarked that it was still early in the day and they continued to meander around the various stalls. Plenty of vendors were selling their wares and Belle couldn't remember why she hadn't come to the fair before. Her father invited her every year and every year she chose to stay home. She could pretend that she wasn't interested in frivolous things like fairs, but that wasn't really true. At some point, she had given up on making friends with real people, preferring to inhabit the fantasy worlds with characters she considered her friends. It made her a little sad in hindsight.

She told Gaston the "real" story about what happened with the Beast and waited for him to call her on her falsehood, but he seemed to accept the story as the truth. She couldn't really blame him. After all, how could she expect him to believe in talking teacups and magic without seeing it for himself? They saw a small stall where a bookseller had set up and Belle was ready to pass it up for Gaston's sake, but he motioned that they should check it out.

She pretended to inspect a volume of poetry while she watched Gaston thumb through the latest Alexandre Dumas novel.

"Why do you read that dime-store garbage?" she asked him.

"Why do you read that sappy drivel?" he replied, indicating the poetry.

"Not all poetry is sappy," she said defensively. "Some of it's beautiful."

"Not all exciting stories are garbage. It possible for a book to be both entertaining and educational, something I wish the schoolmaster would think more on. Why must he insist on teaching students read with the most boring books possible?"

"I completely agree. Learning should be fun."

"Then why are you so prejudiced against popular novels?"

"I'm not prejudiced! I just prefer the classics."

"Dime-store garbage?"

"Okay, maybe that was a little extreme. I was just surprised that a man who reads all the latest news from Paris would waste his time on something so purely situationally amusing."

"That's where you're wrong. Popular novels can do more than amuse a specific group of people. They can tell you things about the people they're written for. Why is Dumas so popular? Is it the outstanding quality of his writing? Probably not. He has some good sword fights and his portraits of government officials are quite funny, but mostly I think people want to know about his characters. We feel for D'Artagnan, the country bumpkin who moves to the big city and is completely incompetent at urban living. We root for Edmond Dantes after he's wronged by the man he thinks is his best friend. The thing that these stories have in common is that they give us characters we can believe in. We want Edmond to have his revenge. We want D'Artagnan to triumph over the cardinal. I think that what these novels say about the popular imagination is that people are looking for a hero in a time when it seems like their leaders are deaf to their cries for reform."

Belle was speechless. Not only was Gaston well informed and well-read in his preferred genres, but he was eloquent. "I had no idea you were so well spoken."

"I know. You thought I just talked to people about hunting and my time as an army captain. Real conversations take place in the tavern, you know. It's more than a watering hole. The men and women in Villenueve are worried. There's unrest in Paris and prices of things we use every day are on the rise. If our government isn't careful, there could be serious trouble."

"Surely the trouble wouldn't affect us?"

"I couldn't say. It's a small village, but that's what makes it safe."

"My father says that."

"Then it must be true. Are you ready for the mummer's play?"

"I suppose so. I'm a little nervous. I've never seen a play before."

"Don't worry. I'll hold your hand."

To Belle's surprise, she enjoyed the play very much. It wasn't exactly Shakespeare, but she enjoyed the simple story and the actors mostly played for laughs. She wondered that she'd never thought to come here with her father. She'd always assumed that the fair would be just one more aspect of country life that she wouldn't care for. She'd never given it a chance. _Just like you never gave Gaston a chance_ a tiny voice in the back her mind said. She found herself stealing side glances at him during the performance. He was undeniably handsome. He had perfect bone structure and although he was obviously older than she was, age hadn't diminished his charm. If anything, the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth made him look more amicable. Gaston was the kind of handsome that every farmer's daughter hoped to marry and that Belle had always disdained. She'd decided early in life that she wanted a plain man. She wanted to love someone for their mind, not their looks. It had never crossed her mind that she could love both.

Belle didn't say much on the ride home. She was too busy rethinking every assumption she had made about her provincial life. "Did you have a good time?" Gaston asked as they neared her front door.

"It was wonderful. Thank you so much."

"You're very welcome. If you enjoyed yourself, I know of some other events in the area. You could bring your father, if you wanted."

He let the suggestion hang in the air. _He's giving me an out_ , she realized. _I've turned him down so many times that he's actually giving me a way to say no gracefully._

"I'm not sure that's something my father would enjoy. He prefers to spend his time at home in his workshop."

"Oh, alright then. I should be getting on."

"But I'd love to go somewhere else with you. You showed me a whole new world today."

"Why, thank you, Belle. You have no idea how pleased I am to hear you say that. St. Anthony's church in Molyneaux puts on a passion play every year around this time. It's very moving. We could go together next Sunday."

"I'd like that very much."

"Then it's settled. It's a date."


	5. Passion Play

Disclaimer: I don't own Beauty and the Beast. It all belongs to Disney.

A/N: I've read BatB fics where Molyneaux is the name of the village where Gaston and Belle live. I'm using it as a neighboring town here. To all you Phantom of the Opera fans out there, I can hardly say the words "Passion Play" without thinking of Point of No Return, but it does have another meaning.

Chapter 5: Passion Play

Belle smiled and wove her arm through Gaston's as they strolled the streets of nearby Molyneaux. Gaston impressed her with his knowledge of the nearby hamlet. "You need to get our more," he chided her, "No wonder you were always trying to escape into books. I can't imagine never leaving Villenueve. It's a big world and I'm not just talking about Paris or Marseille. There's a whole world right here, waiting to be explored. There are a dozen villages within half a day's ride. I know them all. Each one has a different feeling, a different character. They're similar, but not identical, and of course, they all have different people. Molyneaux is one of my favorites. The people here are religious, but they're not overly zealous about it."

"That explains their dedication to putting on a passion play every year."

"It's actually not a bad play. They do it every year during lent and some of the same actors perform in it year after year. It's like a badge of honor for them. This is the kind of thing I was talking about. There are things like this everywhere. Passion plays. Fairs. Dog shows."

"Dog shows?"

"You know, where people groom their dogs and teach them to do tricks and then the best one gets a prize."

"I can't believe that exists."

"There are lots of things like that. Speaking of things that I don't believe exist, when are you going to tell me the truth about what happened in the woods?"

Belle shuddered, but she tried to keep her outward appearance calm. She had incorrectly assumed that Gaston had accepted her explanation of what transpired the night he rescued her from the wolves. "I know how my father must have sounded that night, but I really was kept prisoner by someone awful."

"Someone or something?"

"I guess it depends on your definitions. Do thugs count as people?"

"Barely. What type of person would kidnap an old man and a woman?"

"Someone with fewer morals than you, Gaston."

"Weren't you frightened?"

"I was terrified, but I had to help my father."

"That was a very brave thing you did, my dear."

"I don't know what I was thinking. I knew my father would go for help if I took his place, but I was afraid they might hurt him. He's old and frail and I didn't want him to spend his final days in the company of wolves if I couldn't raise the ransom."

"That's a curious metaphor, as you did in fact end up in the company of wolves."

"Not the wolves I was thinking of, but true nonetheless." Their conversation stopped as the play began. Although she went to church along with everyone else in Villenueve, Belle never thought of herself as particularly religious. She never would have thought she would enjoy a reenactment of the crucifixion, but there was something deeply emotional about the passion play. He tried to hide it, but she saw the tears in Gaston's eyes at the end.

She had no idea how it happened, but on the way home she found herself embroiled in a lively debate with Gaston about popular literature.

"No, no, no. You can't honestly tell me that Englishman is your favorite author."

"Why not? Shakespeare has something for everyone."

"If one writes enough plays, they're bound to cover enough topics. I'm talking about the quality of the writing. Don't you find his characters wooden and his plots stale?"

"Not at all! No one with any taste would call Shakespeare's plots stale."

"Really? I feel like he was desperate for plot devices in lots of his stories. Romeo can't get a message to Juliet because the friar gets boarded up in a house under quarantine for plague. It doesn't seem a little convenient to you that the whole play's plot centers on a guy getting boarded up in a house?"

"I guess I hadn't really thought of it like that."

"Lots of his other plots are like that, too. What about Caliban in The Tempest?"

"What about him?"

"Don't you feel a little bit sorry for him?"

"No! He tries to rape Miranda."

"Alright, that's terrible. I freely admit that. I just think that he's desperate for some kind of affection. Prospero is the only father figure he's ever known and he despises him."

"Prospero isn't his father. Caliban is the son of a sea witch."

"I know, but he's been with Prospero since childhood. I'm not saying he's literally Caliban's father, but who else does Caliban have? Prospero more or less raises him and then condemns him for his treacherous nature."

"That's the thing. He's treacherous."

"Indeed he is, but is Prospero's lack of compassion less so? I'm just saying that I feel some compassion for Caliban. I feel none for Prospero."

"What about Miranda? Do you feel any compassion for her?"

"None whatsoever. Miranda isn't a real person. She's a plot device for helping Prospero get what he wants. We're not meant to see her as a real woman. She has no feelings, no depth. She's just there, like the witch in the wood in fairy tales."

"Or the beast."

"That's what I'm saying. The real person capable of doing horrible things is infinitely scarier than the stock character put in place for the purpose of doing evil. There's nothing particularly frightening about that."

"As the one of us who was recently kidnapped in the woods, I beg to differ."

"Oh, Belle, forgive me. I didn't mean to imply that what you went through wasn't terrifying. I put my foot in my mouth again, didn't I?"

"Not at all. The fact that we're having this discussion is remarkable. Who would have thought you know all about archetypes and plot devices. I thought you said the schoolmaster didn't care for you?"

"He didn't. I wasn't a very attentive pupil."

"How is that possible?"

Gaston laughed, "Just because I can have an intelligent discussion didn't mean I was interested in learning on demand as a boy. Most of what goes on in the schoolhouse is rote memorization. I wasn't good at it and I was completely unmotivated to improve. My father pulled me out of school after a couple of years. We couldn't afford a tutor, but we do have a small library at home. I've poured through all of the volumes at least once."

"What kinds of books do you have?"

"Moliere was my father's favorite. We have all his plays, and yes, we have some Shakespeare as well. I doubt if you remember much about my father, but he was a staunch French nationalist. He didn't think anyone else could truly understand the Frenchman's heart."

"And what about you? Do you think Moliere understood your Frenchman's heart?"

"In some ways, yes. I found his characters more like real people. You know my favorite writer is Alexandre Dumas, but he's not lofty enough to suit your tastes."

"He only writes inexpensive paperback novels."

"What's wrong with paperbacks? The less expensive a book is to print, the more people who can afford to read it."

"Is that what's hindering people from reading more?" she teased.

"I'm serious. Not every village has a friendly clergyman like Pere Robert. For many people, the nearest lending library might as well be on the moon. Without affordable buying options, these people might never read a single book, good or bad.

"The champion of the common man. Perhaps I see little of D'Artagnan in you after all."

"The champion of the common Frenchman. Note the difference."


	6. The Town Hero

A/N: Gaston may be out of character in this chapter. Originally my goal was to humanize him, but then I decided to play with the character. What if all the things the villagers were singing about in the tavern were ironic? It seems like LeFou keeps his exploits as a hero alive, but what if he kept funny stories about Gaston alive instead?

Chapter 6: The Town Hero

Belle covered her face with her napkin hoping that Gaston couldn't see the milk spurting out her nose. Until tonight, she hadn't realized he was funny, but he'd kept her and her father in stiches since he arrived. Maurice didn't look like he was having better luck keeping himself under control.

"Captain, that can't really be how it happened," he inventor attempted to protest in between fits of laughter.

"It's entirely the truth," Gaston said, keeping a straight face.

"You had your heart broken at the tender age of seven?"

"On my honor as a gentleman, I swear that's how it happened. I told her very seriously that I'd never felt this way about anyone and I'd picked her some flowers. It didn't make any serious difference in my mind that it was Alicia, the baker's wife."

"Madame Dixonmonte? That was your first love?"

"Oh, absolutely. I asked her to run away with me. Never mind that I was seven and she was in her mid-twenties at the time. She thought it was so funny she told all her friends. Soon everyone knew about it."

"That's how you got your reputation as a ladies' man?"

"Ironic, isn't it? I have effectively wooed many maidens since then, but my reputation has never recovered."

"But I always thought you were a famous Casanova with the way all the girls at the market stare at you."

"You mean the three sisters, the silly ones? No doubt if I displayed any serious interest they'd take me up on it, but they're also making fun of me. The story with Alicia is why they call me the 'great lover.'"

"I never would have known they were making fun if you hadn't said anything," Belle interjected.

"Of course you wouldn't have. You'd actually have to take an interest in small town life to notice something like that. Keeping your nose in a book is like keeping your head in the sand in some ways, if you'll excuse my saying so. Sometimes you need to look up and see what's around you."

"What about you being the greatest dart player in town? Is that story a fiction as well?"

"It's a fallacy of a similar nature. When I was a young lad, about eight or nine, I wanted to learn how to play darts, but we didn't have any to practice with and there was no dart board anywhere other than the tavern, and I wasn't allowed to go there. I fashioned some of my own darts out of pointed sticks and some feathers from our chickens and then all I had to do was find a bullseye. I decided that the best place to practice would be on a real bull."

"You didn't!"

"I did. At the time we kept our own bull for breeding. I painted a circle around his rump and proceeded to practice by throwing the sticks at him. It was fine while I missed, but once I succeeded he became enraged charged at me. He broke down the pen and it took five of our neighbors and my father to get him back in his paddock. That's how I gained my reputation as Villenueve's greatest dart player."

"I always thought that LeFou was the buffoon."

"Don't let LeFou's appearance fool you. He's a first rate marksman, starting with his days as a sharpshooter during the war. He may not be the best man under pressure, but under the right circumstances, LeFou is one of the finest shots in the country and I'm lucky to hit the broad side of the barn."

"But they call you the town hero."

"It's all a joke, Belle. They mean I'm the town buffoon. Not that I mind, of course. I'm still handsome and as long as I don't take myself too seriously, I can usually use the mishaps of my youth to start interesting conversations. The important thing is knowing when people are laughing at with instead of at you. I make sure it's the former."

"What about your reputation as the greatest wrestler?"

"I got into a wrestling match after school one day with a lad twice my size. His name was Pierre. He's a blacksmith three towns over now and he's still enormous. When it became apparent that I couldn't beat him in a fair fight, I bit him. He ran home screaming."

"How awful."

"Obviously, it's not something I'd do now, but at the time it was just one more story to add to my exploits. You can see now why I'm infamous."

"What about the story that you're a great hunter?"

"Well, I am fairly good with a musket, that part is true, but surely you've heard the rhyme LeFou made up about me?"

"No, I'm afraid I haven't."

"Belle, everyone in Villenueve knows that rhyme. You must have heard it. It's very catchy."

"Sorry. I really don't think so. How does it go?"

Gaston sighed, "When I hunt I sneak up with my quiver and beasts of the field say a prayer. First, I carefully aim for the liver and I shoot from behind. Is that fair? I don't care."

This was what had brought about the milk snorting. "That can't really be what they say."

"I'm afraid it is."

"But that's terrible. You don't really do that, do you?"

"Of course not. I don't carry a quiver because I don't hunt with arrows. I shoot from whatever angle I happen to see the animal from and I never aim for the liver. That's the worst place you could aim. If you shoot something in the liver it might be able to run for miles before it finally dies a slow and painful death. You always aim for the heart or the head when hunting. Every hunter knows that. Still, I suppose hunting was about the only thing I didn't have an incompetent story about, so LeFou made up that song for me."

"I can't believe that for all these years I thought you were an insufferably arrogant. I never knew it was all a joke."

"Well, I may be insufferably arrogant. I am a real war hero, of course, that's not joke, but I do have a sense of humor. Someone who's been in as many scrapes as me better have a good one. Otherwise I'd never get up in the morning for fear of being ridiculed. Luckily, I usually have LeFou with me. He's always ready to laugh with me about these things. I think he helps keep them alive in people's minds. It's because of him that people see me as an amusement and not someone to sneer at."

"We're so glad you joined us for dinner, my dear boy," Maurice clapped him on the shoulder. "I hope you'll feel free to stop by often."

"I'd like that very much, if you don't mind being visited by the village peacock. That's another one of my nicknames. It started after a rumor began circulating that I preened in front of my reflection. Now I do it just to live up to the name."

"You're welcome any time, Monsieur Peacock."

"Thank you so much.


	7. A Pure Paragon

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who left a review and to PhantomsAngel 1870 for being my beta! You guys are the best!

Chapter 7: A Pure Paragon

Belle clutched her sides. Her entire body was shaking and tears were streaming down her cheeks. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed this hard. If this was how a visit to the tavern normally went, then she bitterly regretted not coming here sooner. Gaston was surprisingly light on his feet for a man of his size as he whirled her around during one of the song's seemingly endless refrains. She could feel his hand on the small of her back and she wondered if it always felt this warm. She didn't know if he radiated heat or if it was her own desire that she saw reflected in his eyes. She longed to reach up and touch his whiskered face. Would kissing him feel scratchy? The empty mug of ale on the table made her feel bold, but not quite bold enough to act on her desires, consequences be damned.

Gaston spun her around again and she laughed as she kicked up her heels. She'd been a stranger to this level of comradery until now. It seemed like everyone in this establishment was her friend. All the men wanted to dance with her and all the women wanted to talk to her. It didn't even bother her that they mostly wanted to talk about how handsome Gaston was and ask if he was her beau. The truth was, she didn't really know. He'd made his interest in her plain a number of times, but since the incident in the woods he'd kept her more at a distance. She appreciated that he seemed to be trying to get to know her on a more conversational level instead of trying to overwhelm her with his charms, but she missed his old flirtatiousness. She had never found him irresistible before, but now that he was trying to be friendly she found herself longing for his former advances.

She'd never had any doubts about where they stood before, but now she wasn't so sure. She was certainly grateful to him for his assistance with the wolves, but she wasn't sure he had completely accepted her explanation about how she'd ended up in the woods. At first, when he hadn't questioned her further, she'd assumed that he'd taken her world as gospel, but then she'd catch him looking at her sometimes when he thought she was distracted and a tiny voice in her head would say, _He knows you're a liar_. She hoped he didn't know. She didn't want to lie. Belle tried to be as kind as she could while remaining honest. She valued the truth like a good book. She would never have misled Gaston about the Beast, but if he told someone her father was delusional, Maurice could be locked away. She couldn't risk it. Even if he figured out that she hadn't been honest with him, it was better to let him think the worst of her than to admit what had really happened. He'd only think she was mad as well.

Belle noticed that Gaston was looking at her in that probing way again and she suddenly felt sick to her stomach. It could have been a combination of the ale and all the spinning, but she was sure the real culprit was guilt. Gaston seemed to sense her change in mood and gingerly led her away from the dancing.

"Are you ready to go home?" he asked.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. If she spoke now, she might tell him everything. He draped his red coat around her shoulders against the night's damp chill and took her hand. They walked most of the way back to her house in silence. The dwelling loomed up behind them and Belle was about to thank him for a lovely evening when he pulled her close. His hands were large and almost fit completely around her tiny waist. She could feel her breath hitch as his nose nearly touched hers. She reached up and gently ran her fingers down his jawline. _It's only a little scratchy_ , she noted. He smelled like ale and candied apples and fresh grass. _My breath probably smells terrible_ , she thought, suddenly panicked.

Then his lips touched hers and there was no more panic. There was no more of anything, only lips. It was a soft kiss at first and Belle sighed and breathed in more of his scent. She vaguely remembered it from riding on the back of his horse, but she'd been too tired to appreciate it. He tightened his grip on her waist and drew her closer. She did not resist. She was done with resisting. She was tired of escaping from castles and running from wolves. She wanted something solid. She wanted this. She wanted a handsome sturdy husband who'd build her handsome sturdy walls and never dream that something truly terrifying might be lurking just around the riverbend. She shivered involuntarily. She hadn't meant to think of the Beast and her brief time in his dungeon. It had come into her mind unbidden and it was unwelcome, especially now, in a moment that was so sweet.

Gaston drew back and whispered, "Are you cold?"

She was, but she shook her head and said, "No," in case it was too dark for him to see her. She didn't want him to stop. She drew his mouth back to hers with a little pressure on the back of his neck as she wove her fingers through his dark brown hair. She'd always thought it was black, but tonight in the candlelight of the tavern she could see that it actually contained a myriad of other colors. _Maybe I just wasn't looking properly_ she thought, _Maybe I never saw him as he really is_. She kissed him harder this time as she tugged her fingers through his hair. She wondered if he would mind having her take control. After all, she was a woman. Clearly, he didn't because he leaned into her touch and pressed her back into the outer wall of the house. Her blood was pumping and her heart was pounding in her ears. Her breath came in and out of her nose in short gasps. She opened her mouth wider and invited his tongue to explore. He accepted the invitation and greedily tasted everything he could reach.

 _I don't want to die before I've really lived_ , she thought suddenly. It was like being struck by lightning. Since her encounter with the Beast, she'd done everything she could not to think about it. She'd kept herself in constant motion with the house or the garden. She'd read with unmatched voracity, anything to keep her mind off of what had happened to her and what could have happened if she hadn't escaped. She had no idea what the Beast had planned for her. She didn't let herself wander down the darkest paths she could conjure, the ones that were too horrifying to contemplate. The best-case scenario was that he was lonely and intended to keep her as a permanent companion. She didn't want to resign herself to spending the rest of her days shut away from the world before she'd even gotten a chance to see it for herself. She wanted to really live before she became an eternal spectator in the affairs of humanity.

She wasn't one of those silly girls who planned their wedding to every dandy they met, but she didn't want to die a virgin either. She wanted to know what it was like to connect with someone she cared about in the most intimate way possible. She wanted to feel that closeness. She wanted a choice in the way she lived her life. She wanted security and adventure. She wanted someone who was steady, but exciting. She wanted everything and she intended to have it before her free will was taken from her again. Her hands shook as she held him tighter, pressed herself even closer. She wanted more; more than the life she'd had so far and more than she would get if the Beast came and claimed her again. That was thought she had been avoiding for weeks. It was what she was running from in her own head. _What if he comes back? What if the next time, I can't escape?_

Belle woke up screaming from nightmares where the Beast carried her away in the night. Sometimes she dreamt that it was years later and that he came after her children. She woke up crying for the fates of her unborn progeny. She had a feeling now that she knew who she wanted to father those children. She knew who she wanted to protect them. If anyone could keep them safe from the Beast, it was Gaston. She could feel his desire pressing into her and she was prepared to let him take her, but then he stopped.

"I should go," he whispered hoarsely.

"I think you should stay," she argued. She didn't know how much time they still had.

"What made you change your mind about me, Belle?"

"What?" She was caught off guard by the solemn nature of the question. Most of her blood was still far away from her brain and it took her a moment to formulate a response. "I realized that there's more to you than what everyone sees. I mean, you have a dashing exterior, but I think the man underneath is who's worth knowing. Besides, the full measure of a man is more than the sum of his parts. I know Gaston the hunter and Gaston the war hero, but I don't really understand who he is as a whole yet."

"That's why I'm leaving. You don't understand what you feel for me yet. I'm a few years older than you and I've loved you for a long time. I don't want you to rush into something without knowing what you're getting yourself into. I'm not a saint, Belle. I don't want you to do something you'll regret later, once you know the man I really am better."

"What if there is no later? What if now is all you have?"

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. It's just that sometimes I'm afraid something will happen, that I'll have an accident or something, and I'll die young, without ever having really lived."

"You'll get your days in the sun, I promise. I hope they'll be with me." He left her there in the dark, still wearing his coat. She listened to the echo of his footsteps on the cobblestones fade before she went inside. Her father would be awake soon.


	8. Night Terrors

A/N: I want to give a big thank you to all my reviewers! I also want to say that this story is turning out darker than I imagined. Apparently, I have a penchant for imagining the darker side to Disney movies. I especially want to thank PhantomsAngel1870. Every time I think a chapter is terrible and it can't possibly be posted, she talks me into it. I want to give special thanks to Autobotguy710, Mbanshee, JDLuvaSQEE, and my guest reviewers. I want to respond to my guest reviewer who said that Gaston didn't seem confident enough when he was talking about his shooting abilities in the war. I agree that he seemed a little out of character there and I'll try to keep an eye on that in the future. And now it is with deepest pride and greatest pleasure that I welcome you tonight. I invite you to relax and pull up a chair as I proudly present the next chapter.

Chapter 8: Night Terrors

Everything was dancing. Belle wasn't sure if she was moving or if it was everything else in the room. She found herself in an ornate gold ballgown with a full skirt and matching gloves. Her hair was styled in the latest Parisian fashion and even her feet felt dainty. She was surrounded by elegant couples who whirled their way around her on the dance floor. She could hear the laughter of the women and see the smiles of the men. The only person she recognized was her partner. Gaston looked as dashing as ever in his red coat with his hair tied back in an usassuming ponytail. Belle disliked wigs. How were you supposed to tell if someone's was bald or had grey hair? She was listening carefully to a melody she didn't recognize and trying to decide if Gaston's best feature was his nose or his teeth when his grip on her waist tightened and his face began to change. His ears and teeth elongated and his nose changed shape. His mustache expanded to cover his entire face, even the parts where there should be no hair. His eyes changed from the kind brown she knew to a steely blue she didn't recognize. Where there had once been a handsome gentleman, there now stood a hideous beast, more animal than man. It let out a ferocious roar and Belle felt its teeth close around her neck before she could get away.

She sat bolt upright in bed, covered in sweat, tears pricking at her eyes. There was a familiar burning in the back of her throat. She'd been having the nightmare almost nightly since she escaped from the enchanted castle. It always ended the same way. The beginning was quite pleasant. She and Gaston were dressed in their best clothes at a fancy party where there was dancing. She loved dancing with him. He was as light on his feet in her dreams as he was in real life and in the dream she never had to worry about tripping over her skirt or stepping on his feet. In the middle of the dance he always transformed into the Beast and no matter how hard she struggled, she was never able to get away.

Belle swallowed the lump in her throat and threw off her sheets. She was tired of feeling like this. She never managed to go back to sleep after the nightmare and usually spent the rest of the night reading. The cumulative lack of sleep was starting to affect her daily life. Yesterday she had nodded off at the stove and dinner had been a charred mess. Her father was too kind to say anything, but she could see the worry in his eyes. She wanted to talk to him about it, but what could he do? He was the person she trusted most in the world, but she didn't trust him to protect her from the Beast. There was only one person she thought might be able to do that.

The night after her encounter with Gaston, Belle's dreams had taken a decidedly different turn. It had been a welcome departure from the nightmare, but it was disturbing in a different way. Her mind kept wandering back to the way his hands felt on her waist or the texture of his hair when he kissed her. It was maddening. She was exhausted. She was distracted. She was determined to do something about it.

Donning her favorite blue dress and utilitarian black cloak, Belle pulled her hair back and set off for Gaston's house. She lit no candle. She hoped that the darkness would be enough to hide her from any prying eyes who happened to be awake at the unseemly hour.

Gaston rolled over and refused to open his eyes. He was sure that if he ignored whatever had woken him up, it would go away. There were none of the accompanying sounds of morning; no roosters, no sounds of carts on cobblestones, which meant it was still the middle of the night. He'd be damned if he let some particularly ambitious racoon rob him of his beauty rest.

He heard the noise again and sat up in bed. It sounded almost like someone was tapping on his window. Gaston was exhausted. He hadn't slept properly since rescuing Belle from the wolves. The proximity of her body to his on the ride back had made it difficult to keep his thoughts about her in check and their more recent encounter after a night at the tavern had made it impossible. He loved her, but it was pure animal lust that kept him up at night. He loved all the good and sweet things about her personality, but it was the feel of her hands in his hair and the way she said his name softly, like a prayer, that kept him up at night. The urge to take her was becoming unmanageable and it had kept him from seeking her out for the last three days. He honestly didn't know if he could control himself around her. He didn't think she'd say no at this point, but he also wasn't sure it would matter if she did and that was a sobering thought.

Gaston had done some despicable things during the war, things any mother's son would be ashamed of. They haunted him, but taking a woman by force was something he'd never even considered. For one thing, it was wholly unnecessary. Women threw themselves at him by the handful, especially the widows during the war. They were lonely and they knew his regiment would leave soon. They got companionship without the commitment and he got the conquest. Everyone had been a winner in those days, but he certainly didn't feel like a winner now. He was tired. He was frustrated. Goddamn it, what was that infernal tapping noise?

Gaston threw back the blanket from his bed and went to the window. He was suddenly very glad that the chilly night air had prompted him to sleep in a dressing down instead of his more typical au natural state, when he saw Belle staring at him through the window pane. He was going to ask her what she was doing there, but she put her finger to her lips and gestured for him to open the window. He obeyed. He'd never been so glad to live in a simple one story farmer's cottage.

Belle was surprisingly graceful climbing through the window. Her long legs made short work of it and she was inside before he'd gotten what he considered adequate time to admire her in action.

"How can I help you this evening, Mademoiselle?" He asked, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary that she had climbed through is window in the middle of the night.

"I can't sleep," she blurted out.

"I see," Gaston said. _What was she doing here?_ "And now that you're here neither can I."

"I'm sorry, " she said guiltily. _What was wrong with her?_ _Of course he had been asleep. Was so she so selfish that she thought she had the right to wake him up in the middle of the night?_ "I can't stop thinking about the last time I saw you."

"I can't stop thinking about it either. It's kept me away for the last few days."

"Was it awful?"

"What? No! Of course not. It was heaven. I didn't know if I could control myself if I was alone with you again."

"What if I don't want you to?"

"Does that mean you agree to marry me?"

Belle shrugged, "I guess it does."

"I'll be honest, I was hoping for a more enthusiastic reaction."

"Something more like, Gaston, you tall, dark, strong and handsome brute, take me now. I'm pretty sure you could get that from the triplets anytime you wanted."

"That's not fair. I don't expect you to fall all over yourself, but I don't get the feeling you're being honest with me. Ever since I rescued you in the woods, you've been different. You were always a dreamer, but lately you've been reckless. What are you afraid of, Belle?"

"I'm afraid of living my life unloved. I realized that night in the woods how short life can be. It can end without warning. It made me not want to waste any more time. I love my books, but I want to love my life, too. I want to have adventures instead of only reading about them. Who would be a better partner than the bravest man in Villenueve?"

"That all makes perfect sense, but how do you feel about me?"

Belle was caught off guard. He'd proposed to her so many times. She assumed she could say yes at any time and that would be the end of it. She wasn't prepared for any declarations of love. Did she love Gaston? She wasn't sure. She loved the safety and security he represented. She loved the way she felt when he touched her. Beyond that, she wasn't sure what her feelings about him were.

Apparently her silence told him enough because he placed a hand firmly on her arm and said, "Let me walk you home." Five minutes later Gaston was fully dressed and he and Belle were making their way through the silent street back to her house. Their footsteps rang out on the cobblestones.

Belle felt like crying. Going to see Gaston had seemed like such a good idea from the scent of her own bedroom. She was sure that he thought she was a fool now.

Suddenly a sound echoed from the forest. It was unlike anything Gaston had ever heard. It was like the how of an animal, but it contained the anguish and loneliness only a man could feel. Belle recognized it immediately. "It's the Beast. He's come for me."

Gaston was about to tell her that was crazy when an enormous shape burst from the trees and charged toward them. "What the devil is that thing?" he asked. As an accomplished hunter, he wasn't afraid of dangerous animals. He knew how to handle them, but this was something different. He'd never seen anything like it before. It was huge, taller than any man, but also broad, like an ox. Before Belle could answer, the thing was upon them. With another roar, it hoisted Gaston into the air by the lapels of his coat and threw him against a nearby tree. He had time to register the pain before everything went black.

Belle only managed to run a few paces before the Beast swung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She didn't scream. What was the point? Her fellow villagers were no match for him. She didn't want anyone else she cared about to get hurt. This was the end of her life as a free woman. From now on, there was only the Beast.


	9. Kidnapped

A/N: I'm finally back for an update! I'm sorry for the long wait between chapters. I want to give a big thank you to AutobotGuy710, Mbanshee, Ventura1225, JDLuvaSQEE, my guest reviewers, and of course, PhantomsAngel1870.

Chapter 9: Kidnapped

The first thing Gaston noticed when consciousness returned was the pain. He felt like his entire body had been run over by a horse and cart. How had this happened? He was about to call LeFou and ask him to bring him a strong drink, but then he remembered. He wasn't with LeFou. Belle had climbed in his window and he had been walking her home. That was when the creature had come. The Beast was real and it had taken Belle.

A searing pain assaulted him as he tried to open his eyes. It seemed like something white hot was burning right into his retinas. Nevertheless, he tried again several seconds later with moderately more success. Almost everything he tried to move had a similar reaction. It was slow going, but eventually he managed to get to his feet and gingerly make it the rest of the way to Belle's house. He knew she wasn't there, of course, but there was only one other person who could tell him where to find the Beast.

A haggard looking Maurice opened the door before Gaston had the chance to knock. It was obvious that the old man had guessed where Belle was. "What happened?" Maurice asked and quickly stepped aside to allow Gaston to come in.

"Belle came to see me last night," Gaston wheezed. "She was afraid. We were ambushed on our way back here. That thing took her." He slumped into a chair as he struggled to regain his breath. The Beast must have done serious damage when he threw him into the tree. He couldn't seem to catch his breath and the more he tried to take normal breaths, the more the room felt like it was spinning. The last thing Gaston saw before he blacked out again was Maurice's worried face leaning over him.

When Gaston woke up for the second time that day, he found himself in considerably better circumstances than the first time. For one thing, his head didn't feel like it was splitting. His vision seemed normal. He had some aches and pains, but there was nothing that felt like it would interfere with normal activity. At the moment, normal activity chiefly consisted of rescuing Belle as soon as possible.

Gaston looked around and saw that he was propped up in a sitting position on what he guessed was Maurice's bed. There were bandages wrapped around his ribs and a cold compress was plastered to his forehead. He started to get up, but was tsked by a matronly voice.

"Don't you undo all my hard work by overexerting yourself as soon as you wake up," it said.

He opened his eyes and followed the voice to where Agathe, the town spinster, was sitting at a small table with Maurice. "You've had some serious trauma. Every body has its limits, including yours. You suffered some grave injuries and then persisted to push yourself to get here as soon as possible, even though you knew your body was telling you to slow down. You knew what you should do. You could feel it, but you didn't listen. Finally, your body said, 'That's enough!' and it shut down on you. You're lucky Maurice brought me as quickly as he did. Even I can't raise the dead."

"I'm sure it wasn't that serious," Gaston said.

Agatha gave him a hard stare, "You bet your arse it was and you need to take care of yourself before you go and do anything reckless."

"You can't expect me to sit here and do nothing! She's in danger! Who knows what could be happening to her every minute we sit her talking." Gaston tried to get up and winced as his ribs exploded with pain.

Maurice held up his hands placatingly, "I don't think the Beast will harm her." Gaston stared at him in disbelief. "Hear me out," Maurice said. "He had plenty of opportunities to assault her in her previous captivity, but he made no move to do so. It sickens me to think that my daughter is with that monster, but I think he intends to keep her for her company. I think he means to woo her."

"That's ridiculous. He's a beast. You can't expect him to think like you or me."

"Some part of him remains human and that part wants to be loved, needs to be, maybe. At any rate, from what I gathered from listening to the objects' chatter, the Beast must earn the love of a young woman to break his curse and turn back into a mortal man."

"That's never going to work with Belle. She could never love that monster," Gaston scoffed, but in the back of his mind was a niggling sense of doubt. Belle was so kind. Could pity turn to love eventually, if she remained captive long enough?

"Belle has a kind heart and if anyone could see the man behind the monster, it's her, but I agree. She obviously has feelings for you and those aren't likely to be subverted by a kidnapper," Maurice observed and Gaston felt the lump in his stomach disappear.

"We have to get her back. You have to show me where they've taken her," he pleaded.

"I tried that once before. It wasn't an overt success," Maurice raised his eyebrows. The irony of what Gaston was asking wasn't lost on him.

"But I thought you were crazy before. Now I know you're telling truth. Please, Maurice! We're her only hope."

"That's why we have to be smart. I'm not sure you could sit to ride a horse in this condition, let alone stand and fight. How do you plan on rescuing her? Are you going to ride up to the front door and politely ask the Beast to return her?"

"Of course not. I'm going to find out where they're keeping her and then sneak in in the middle of the night and set her free."

"What if she's guarded?"

"That's not likely. Unless it's the Beast himself, who would be keeping watch over her? A teapot? A spoon?"

"That's not the point. All anyone would have to do is sound the alarm and the Beast could be there in seconds."

"We don't know that. He could be far away in some other part of the castle."

Maurice's look told Gaston that he didn't think that was at all likely, but he didn't argue any more. Agathe finally agreed to give Gaston a strong numbing agent to dull his pain. She warned him that the effects wouldn't last more than a few hours and if he didn't return before his pain did, he probably wouldn't have the strength to get back on his own. Gaston wasn't worried about that. If he couldn't find Belle and bring her back before the potion wore off, then he wasn't the man everyone thought he was and he'd rather die alone in the woods.

Agathe had demanded an unsettling promise for him before she administered the draught. He was so desperate that he would have agreed to almost anything, but when he thought about it in hindsight, it made him shiver. "You will perform a service for me of my choosing," she had said. "It could be something simple, like buying food or it could be something long and involved, like building me a house. Whatever task I assign you, you must complete it. That is my price." There was something about her voice when she asked. For a moment she almost seemed… inhuman. He knew it was ridiculous. This was Agathe, the town beggar, not some dangerous witch in the wood. If she had any powers, would she have used them to procure herself a more comfortable life? It was likely that she would ask him to defend her from the villagers the next time they were harassing her or something of that nature. Of course, now that he thought about it, he should probably do that from now on anyway, even if she didn't ask, just to be safe. He didn't like the idea of her blaming him for anything. Owing her a favor was bad enough.

With his pains numbed and Maurice's careful directions in hand, Gaston mounted Andre and set off at a gallop for the forest. He needed to reach Belle as soon as possible, for both their sakes.


	10. The Rope Trick

Chapter 10: The Rope Trick

Belle set her jaw in grim determination as she tied sheets and blankets together into makeshift rope. There was a lump in her throat, but no tears reached her eyes. She was not going to spend the rest of her life locked in this castle. She didn't care about the promise she had made to the Beast. Hadn't she also promised her father she would escape? That was the promise she intended to keep. She couldn't believe she had been captured a second time and was back here. Apparently having learned their lesson the first time, the servant objects had not offered to give her the freedom to roam the castle this time. Belle wasn't sure she would be afforded a better opportunity than this one, so she set her sights on making the knots in the makeshift as tight as possible. She hoped it would hold her weight and stay tied to the bed, but she had no way of testing it. Relying on blind faith was her only option.

A ping came from just outside her window. She stopped, listened, and heard it again. What was that? She strode over to the window and opened it, peering down into the snow.

"Belle!" Gaston called up to her quietly, but loud enough for her to hear.

"Gaston! What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to rescue you! Obviously."

"How did you plan on doing that? Were you going to climb up here?"

"I hadn't gotten that far. How was I supposed to know you'd be in such a high tower?"

"It's a castle. It has lots of high walls."

"You're making this seem much less heroic than the way I pictured it in my mind. Do you have a way to get down?"

"I've been making a rope. I hope it will hold my weight." There was a beat of silence. "Gaston?"

"Yes?"

"Aren't you supposed to tell me you'll catch me if I fall?"

"I think that from this height you'd probably break my back and that's not going to make getting back to Villenueve any easier."

"I don't know whether I'm relieved that you're smarter than you look or offended because you think I'm heavy."

"I'd prefer relieved, but you'd better hurry up either way, before someone sees you."

She tied the makeshift rope to the bedpost and threw it out the window. She was suddenly absurdly grateful that Mrs. Potts had chosen this room to accommodate her. She had no way of knowing if the others were any less luxurious, but anything with fewer layers of sheets and blankets would have rendered her escape impossible. She poked her head out the window and saw that the rope reached the ground. She couldn't help but smile a little as she saw Gaston's expectant face looking up at her. The distance and dim glow of the moonlight had erased all traces of age from his face and she saw him as he must have appeared as the sixteen-year-old who joined the king's army many years before. She saw what all the women who swooned over him must have seen from the boyish grin to the sparkling eyes. Saying a silent prayer that she would have another chance to see those eyes up close, she put her weight on the rope and started her descent.

Several agonizing minutes later, Belle fell into Gaston's arms from about four feet above him. The impact might have sent a less well balanced man tumbling, but he was a practiced athlete and he handled the hit as if she weighed nothing at all. He allowed himself to wrap his arms around her and claim her lips in a hard kiss. She fought him for dominance as teeth clashed and tongues invaded mouths. After a moment, he pulled away and led her by the hand to where Andre was waiting.

"This is the horse you brought?" she hissed. "Isn't your mare faster?"

"She is, but I've never tested how she bares more than one person. Andre is tried and true."

"He better be fast if we're going to get away before anyone notices."

"With all these footprints, it won't make much difference. They won't have any trouble tracking us."

"Is it safe to go back to Villenueve?"

"Probably not. They found you there once before, but where else can we go?"

"Anywhere. Couldn't we stay at an inn somewhere for a day or two? Maybe once they see I'm not home, they'll stop looking for me."

"Who are they, Belle? And don't tell me another lie about bandits in the forest. I found my way to the castle where it's always winter. What else from your father's story is true?"

"Everything. A spell was cast on the inhabitants of the castle. None of them are human anymore. Most became household objects, but their master became a hideous beast. He's the one I bargained with for my father's freedom. I said I'd take my father's place, but why should I? He didn't have any reason to imprison my father in the first place. Papa took a rose from the garden and the Beast called him a thief. Taking his place seemed like the right thing to do at the time and I'd happily take some reasonable punishment for him, but I'm not willing to spend the rest of my life locked up by a wild animal. There has to be more in my future than that."

The cadence of Andre's hooves thundered like a drum as Gaston urged the animal past the frozen lake back to the warmer part of the wood. "There will be, Belle. You're still so young. Your future can be whatever you want it to be."

"You say that like it's not true for you."

"I'm a good ten years older than you. At my age, let's just say the future doesn't look as bright as the past."

"Come on, Gaston. You're Villenueve's most eligible bachelor. Your future is full of good things. Think about evenings spent with your latest kill roasting on the fire while the little ones play with the dogs and your wife massages your shoulders."

"You make that sound blissful, but the only girl I've ever really cared for isn't interested in that kind of provincial life. She wants adventure in the great wide somewhere. If I tried to convince her to settle down, I'd feel like I was robbing her of the life she should have."

"What if she changed her mind about what she wanted? It's her prerogative to do that."

"Of course it is, but I still don't think"- she cut him off.

"I didn't mean I wanted to have adventures forever, just that I want to see the world before I settle down. Couldn't we do some travelling before we decide to live in Villenueve forever? Maybe we could even live somewhere else for a while and see if we liked it better."

"That's awfully forward of you. I haven't even asked you to marry me yet."

"You ask me at least once a week."

"But I haven't asked you this week."

"We could go to Molyneaux. I know there's an inn there. We could stay overnight and find a priest to marry us first thing tomorrow morning. There must be a priest there, too, with that lovely church."

"Belle, I'm speechless. In all the times I imagined you'd be mine, I never thought it would turn out quite like this."

"You'll have me for your wife. Make no mistake about that. I'd rather have you than someone who wants to lock me up forever."

"I can't help but feel like you're only saying this because you think the Beast will come after you again. You don't need to be my bride for me to protect you."

"I know that, but I want to live before I'm locked away again. You're the only man I've ever wanted to experience married life with."

"Belle, what are you saying?"

"Make me your wife, Gaston, tomorrow in word and tonight in deed. If the Beast comes for me and I never have another chance, at least let me show you how I feel about you this once."


End file.
